God of Thunder and Rock'n'Roll (archmage) wrote,
God of Thunder and Rock'n'Roll
archmage

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Recurring Dream Stuff

I have some of the weirdest (and most disturbing) dreams sometimes. Mostly, it's just nightmares out of my twisted psyche, but I have noticed a couple of things that show up a lot in them.

One thing that happens a lot in my dreaming is flight. Sometimes it's just me flying (like some kind of superhero, though I'm not one), sometimes it's a machine (but not a big thing like an airplane, something small and personal, like a backpack or something to ride, and always controlled by me)...but in each case, while I can move around and manoeuver just fine, I have problems gaining altitude. I can move, turn, twist, what-have-you...but I have real trouble going any HIGHER.

Dream interpretation says that flight is a sign of astral travel, or, more importantly, that flight represents the part of us that isn't tied down: the mind. Flying tends to represent a strong mental presence, but that someone who lives mostly in the mind (rationalizing things, etc.) is liable to miss things in life. It is also said that flying represents freedom of some sort.

I also seem to lose my stuff in my dreams a lot. Whether that be items, or home, or occasionally relationships, I lose things frequently. Usually, this loss hits me out of the blue; for instance, I'll have my stuff, and I'll turn away or deal with something, and then it's gone, and I have no clue where it is, and neither does anyone else.

"Things" tend to get defined as emotional baggage and mental clutter, or they could just be representations of desires. "Loss" is sorta funny, and I've found very little interpretation of it specifically; anything like that usually depends on WHAT the 'things' are, but my recurring theme IS the loss.

So, what is my brain trying to tell me? That it ("I") need some kind of freedom, but cannot have it for whatever reason? Is it also trying to say that I'm missing out on something, because I'm too preoccupied with other things? Man, that's depressing.

I'm not sure what my brain thinks it's missing out on...and the few things that I KNOW I don't get, are NOT because I'm distracted.

Last night's dream, incidently, wasn't a nightmare, for a change. In the first part, I seem to be playing some sort of game, but it's real. Fairly combative, in a building that has apparently had some serious damage to it, and I'm running around, shooting any who oppose me with a varying array of weapons that I pick up (all plausible weapons, no ray-guns). I am trying to accomplish something specific, but I don't remember (now) what it was. At some point, instead of running, I jump on some sort of motorcycle-like thing, but jump off it in favor of something more futuristic-looking, a hovering flying-wing; I wish I could really describe it, because I can see it in my head. Anyway, this speeds up my movement and its on-board weaponry makes short work of the opposition (oddly suited military types with helmets and masks), and I'm handling things fine, but I decide to take it for a ride, somewhere I have more room, so I crash out a window. I'm three stories up, over a parking lot, which I descend to, and just fly around. The people don't seem too worried or surprised by me, they all appear to be gathered here for some reason, but not gathered in one group...kinda like the parking lot before or after a sports event. The flying-wing that I'm on, incidently, is now just a seat, like a chair with no legs, and a controller in my hands. After seeing a guy who looks like he might be dead but is actually sleeping, eyes open and everything (someone has placed a joke sign on him which makes no sense), I decide it's time to head back, get back to work, and off I go, but i can't seem to get the altitude to get back in. I figure part of it is due to slouching in the chair, throwing off the center of gravity or something, so I sit up straight, but still cannot get it to climb. Eventually, I manage to get it up there (don't know how), and head back inside. By this point, though, I don't seem to have the same agenda I once did...now, I seem to want to be much more in control. After cold-bloodedly shooting down a few people who seem to have been civilians, I can see, into the next room (a small room), a young girl, like a child, who for whatever reason is pulling her pants up and has a deep red welt on her behind. I tell her that I am in control here, and that NOT doing whatever I say will get her killed. She looks like she is disgusted and angry, but doesn't want to die. About this time, the door to my right opens, and a girl steps out, maybe late teens, kinda hurrying, wearing some kind of robe. inside the room is a bed with a young boy-child on it, and she's muttering something about 'no way, I don't think so'. I look at all involved, grab the boy, toss him out of the room, and pull the teen chick into the room behind me, locking the door. Somehow, I know we are on a ship, and this is a compartment, not a normal cabin, but somewhere I could stay. A porter comes by, and knowing the girl is too young to drink, I order a beer for her. The porter (who looks like Leslie Neilsen) seems to know that it's not for me, but just smiles knowingly, and leaves. By this time, the girl and I have fooled around a little, but she had still been clothed, but when I turn back around, she opens the robe to reveal that she has removed everything underneath. I recall jumping on top of her, but the thing is, we didn't actually DO anything, apart from some nuzzling. The ship stops, and I remember heading out of my little compartment (after another beer from the porter, who apprently verifies my age by the fact that I have a hat), and see that my compartment is actually a metal crate that the luggage normally goes in. I meet up with the rest of my companions, who all had normal quarters, I guess, and we say our good byes. I recall that one of them was a newer friend, and I mentioned that they were welcome in my home anytime, and they, in return, bent their head and whispered to me that they were grateful for the way that I had stood up for them when someone had said something earlier in the trip. I was left there with a woman who I knew to be my girlfriend, who I lived with. I turned back into my 'room' to pack my things, because I knew they were getting people off the ship. My g/f turns to me, and sees the young chick thorugh the door, who has put on her undies. In response to the gasp behind me, I turn and mention that yes, I know there is a girl in her underwear in my room, she needed a place to stay, to which my girl storms off. I run immediately after her, and catch up to her at the table of some outdoor cafe thingy. I try to say that I'm sorry, and that we can work past it, but she (crying a little) tells me that she is a 'tosser' (implying that she throws things away), and that we'll give it a day to think through. Somehow, though, I know that this is it, and it's over, and I'll have no relationship and no place to live. I run back to my compartment to get my things, but everything's gone. Workers are busy cleaning out and fixing the metal crates in a huge warehouse, so I go there. Inside, half the place is factory-like, and people with blowtorches and various tools are fixing the metal crates. The other half is a huge store, where apparently, they sell anything that gets left behind (for some reason, it's mostly toys). I look through, but don't see MY stuff anywhere, and I start to panic, because it was most of my clothes, and several things that were very important to me. I finally stop someone who works there, a black lady, and try to ask her where my things might be, but I break down while doing it into hysterical crying at my situation. She kneels down next to me (I'm sitting on the floor by this point), and hugs me, trying to calm me down, and tells me that I should try the door on the other side, that's all she can think of. I finally go to it, and knock. The door is answered by a little boy (I don't think the same one as before), who, upon seeing me, mutters "oh man, YOU..." and slams the door shut on my fingers. I hammer at the door again, and it opens, and inside the room is strewn with toys and candy. He is standing next to a leather recliner (which has seen better days), and holding a bag of chips in front of his face, saying something about not being able to let me leave, since now I know. I'm havig trouble hearing him over the TV, but it suddenly gets quiet, and I ask him what I know, to which he answers something about the secret. Nearly getting hysterical again, I tell him I won't say anything, if he'll just answer a few questions. He moves the chips, brightens up, and says OK. I ask him what is the secret of his candy (very Willy Wonka, wouldn't you say?). I seem to know that there is some chocolate that is nearly addicting, and this kid apparently makes it. He tells me that it's just some special yogurt he smears on the outside of chocolate bars, and this strikes me as hilarious, which makes him mad since he trips on some toys at that moment and thinks I'm laughing at him.

Things get a little fuzzy here, and I recall bits and pieces of a second dream, where I am trying to walk home from someplace, maybe a bar, it's night, and wet, and I'm on my cellphone with someone while walking with another, and my phone is ringing off the hook. Eventually, it's morning, and I've given up on the phone, and I'm now carrying a bunch of various groceries, which are a little unwieldy. In trying to get home, we walk across a field where some girls are practicing soccer. An argument ensues, where I get pretty nasty, but after talking with their coach, I apologize, and on we go.

All in all, a fucked-up way to wake up. Weird dreams and exceptional recall make for strange awakening.
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